Chapter 11: Chapter 10: Frailness of life

Allan, surprised by a task from Thomas, carefully considered why he wanted to send a letter through him. It was probably for convenience, but he wasn’t sure.

“It is a few streets away, close to a lesser shop street where I can get my groceries.” Allan thought, so he decided that he would take this task.

He looked at Thomas and said. “1 silver.”

Thomas looked at Allan, unsure. But he forgets about the money all the time. “Here, take 5.” He tossed a coin to Allan. On a coin was the number 5.

Currency is made into two categories. Gold with silver and copper on a side. Copper and silver coins were further divided into 1, 5, 10, 20, and 50 coins. Two 50 copper coins were worth 1 silver. Their thinness and size determined their value, but for further simplicity, they had a number on each side.

Gold coins were different. They were worth much more and their value was the maxim of higher trading companies. The numbers and worth of the coins were vastly different, and many numbers were attached to them. From 50 to almost 10000 gold worth a coin. This system was used since time immemorial. Weirdly, it was used by all nations. Of course, there were occasional tribes from the north which used barter and traded with various materials. There was generally no way to stop this spontaneous actions of barter, which was popular almost anywhere. In a sense, even merchant groups were still doing business in this way because of the materials they had and wanted. No government or kingdom's rules could stop this in any way. As long as the economy was fine, they did not bother with this.

“Thank you, mister Thomas. I will go there immediately.” Having his lunch provided by Berg was a great addition. He should not have to worry about the meal for today.

Covering his head with the hood, he walked away from the pub. Heavy rain was hitting the street. Wind tossing around surrounding trees.

“It got worse, huh?”

A surprising amount of people were walking on the street. Covering their faces were hoods and cloaks, which protected them. They were used to such weather and not everyone had time to spare.

Allan walked on, slowly reaching his destination. On a road below an empty penthouse, there was a chair with a table on the empty lot under a tree where he decided to have a quick lunch. Eating his fill of meat, sandwiches, and even rice, which Berg gave him. “How nice! Rice is expensive to buy. It is from far south, but it never ceases to amaze me.”

He had another thing to consider. Should he look at the letter or not? Considering the letter from his father and the additional one from Thomas piqued his curiosity.

“Screw it! There is even delivery to Burne’s shop. That is not coincidental.” Allan made up his mind, reaching into his bag and taking out the letter.
He tried to open it. Allan grunted by sheer force, but he couldn’t open it at all.

“What in the world is this?” Did he seal it together? Allan wondered, as he tried to rip it open.

“Forget it.”
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After a while, Allan walked to a building on 26th street. Taking his hood off.
This was a shop building where inside, shops could be opened in every weather condition. They had closed doors and windows with shelve of goods. It had several floors and secret underground floors with shops and workshops.

Allan was walking through the hall, occasionally glancing at windows, reaching stairs that went down. At the end of the stairs was the gate. A man was standing there behind a stall. He was in charge of deals that were made behind the gate. This was not the sort of black market that Allan heard about from his father. No. It was just a business practice where they made groups of shops into a single location. It was an easier and more recognizable course of action for bettering their profits. This man was an employee of this group which was in charge and possession of this place.

The man glanced at approaching Allan. “What can I do for you, Allan?” He smiled at him. He was in his mid-30s and had a sharp look. Allan met him a few times. He visited here with his father who made some purchases for his shop here.

“You remember me?” He asked the man.

“Of course. I must remember everyone. Your father visited yesterday. Is something wrong?”

“I have a letter for mister Burn.”

“From?”

“Mister Thomas inquired me about the delivery. He is still working.”
The man glared at him. Not knowing the reason for it. He usually had messengers in charge of information and letters. “Alright. Do you want to deliver it yourself or I can do it for you?”

“I will do it personally.” Answered Allan.

Man no longer paid much attention. Pulling the knob, and opened the gate.

Gate slowly opened itself. Walking inside, Allan looked at a similar hall from above. He wanted to do it personally for his own curiosity. Walking on, shops were scattered on the side. Some open and others closed. On a wall above a particular door was a sign. Medical shop of 100 Burns. Walking through the door.

An old man who placed bottles on a shelf greeted Allan. “Greetings, Allan. Clayton is not with you? What can I do for you?” He said in a hoarse, aged voice. He wore a green light robe.

“Hello, I came to deliver a letter to you. It came from Thomas from the Lonely Tiger pub, who got a letter from my father.” Allan said. He gave him a letter and looked at his reaction.

Mister Burn accepted a letter with a serious expression as well, then walked to the back of his shop. He returned after a few minutes with an open letter in his hand. Glancing at Allan. “Thank you for delivering me this. You can go away now.”

“Is everything alright?” Asked Allan in a worry.

“Yes. Yes, why it should be not?” Burn muttered.

Allan gave him a last glance and left. He probably expected another letter, but was shooed away like this.
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Dozens of kilometers away, shores of the Windy Sea.

A storm was raging here as well. Waves stormed the beach in fierce fashion.

In the cloudy fog, silhouettes of ships could be seen approaching the shores. Shrouded around the fog, they were hardly seen from the coast. Probably coming from the northern shores, they cleaved past the waves with their robust bodies. Cleaning their way forwards and reaching the closest shores. Dozens of high ships slowly made their appearance after those few bigger ships beyond them. In black-colored wood, they resembled an old battle fleet that experienced ages traveling the Windy Sea.

They were quite tall and one of them was dozens upon dozens of meters in length, its wood was covered in plated armor. Like a ruler of the sea. Not one of them was bothered by the raging storm. It was a rather strange situation where the storm of water was raging around them, but not in the closest proximity of each ship.

On a deck of the biggest ship. Rows of figures were standing in a line. They were clothed in flickering cloaks which went all around their bodies and head. In front of them was a hooded youth in a cloak as well. Shining gear could be seen under the looser cloak. He held his head high with an arrogant face shown without a hood. Besides him were servants, and some other figures.

“Captains, Deploy everyone. It shall all start from this moment.” The youth told in a domineering voice.

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A roar shook the air from the war cry of their shout. Hundreds of military and rough-looking soldiers jumped from their ships after discarding their cloaks. Some wear armor, while most of them were rather strangely clothed. The water cleared up their way as they reached the shore in a magical manner.
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Lesser shop district, few streets away from 26th street. Allan was making his purchases. Buying ham, eggs, a few kilos of flour, bread, vegetables, and some fruits. Clayton gave him a few weeks' worths of money for food supplies. He also expected some meat and dried sausages, but everything was sold.

His bag was almost full by now. So he finished his shopping and went home. By the time he was back, 3 hours or more passed. He was carefully storing the content of his bag in the kitchen.

Finishing up the lunch that Berg gave him, he was ready for today's forging. He constantly thought about the possible route he wanted to take. There were a lot of possibilities when it come to this. Even without that book Clayton gave him, Allan would not be clueless at all. It just left him with more knowledge of things.

The armor was not so different from the forging blades in general. It was a different kind of metal product, after all. Thinness and weight were the main things that were important without lessening the protective properties. Nearly every ore can be made into armor or sword. It all depends on the techniques used when using them all.

Allan discovered a brand new method he had never seen before. It involved the liquefied metallic essences into thin plates which could be layered across each other with chains, or any kind of technique. One could even reheat them and melt them together into manageable pieces so one could put them on himself.

Shoulder and torso armors were quite easy for this, as Allan assumed the way it could be worn would be easy. It was the main weight and core of the human body, where weight was not that limiting. For example, hands or legs are better off without any heavy equipment. But they still need protection. Allan read about the many solutions and ways to go around this.

The blacksmith could use their knowledge of human anatomy and needs for wearing armor in every shape or form. What are needs for any kind of armor depends on lots of factors. And everyone had their own perspective on this. For the most part, the human torso and head were the most important ones and one of the easiest to protect. Legs and armor, in a way, are the least protected, as they have the most movements of the human body.

Especially in the actual fights when soldiers swung their weapons and moved with their legs forward. Solutions for this were the plates that were depicted previously. They would get stacked on top of each other and could be secure around the wrist, forearm facing the enemy, and shoulder, which can be also a part of torso armor. Similarly, legs could be armored in the same way around the calf, and shoes, which could be reinforced with them as well. As for the thighs, there were also a few details he did not miss but ultimately told the same things.

“All this talk about those plates sounds rather delicate and interesting. I wonder if it could be done with mixing as well? It all talks about the plates stacked on top of each other, so there is probably something very important thing. It could be the stacking or the way it was secured, which could lead to less weight but overall protection, which could be almost like full body armor.” Allan thought out loud with his accumulated knowledge of this armor-making method.

He kept looking at the many pages this book talked about. Figuring out the methods and teachings was one thing when it was clearly defined, but his father always told him to not rely on them for the life of his. When one is clever with their heads, it is not a bad thing at all, but it needs to be useful when one is forging and working. He told him multiple times when he read through his documents and book that making the knowledge his own was more important than making the content of the writer affect himself.

At that time, Allan never knew what he truly meant by it. It could all well be some clever tactic to sound mysterious, but it confused Allan to the bitter end. He still thought about all of this to this day and understood it more as time moved on.

“Knowledge of this book and its content? Father... you meant it like not directly copying it but acknowledging it as a blacksmith and making something out of it with my own skill? Hmmm.” Allan pondered the possibility, which was not far from the truth.

Clayton had a different opinion as Allan grew up in rather a different situation than himself. Being forced to be without a mother, Allan found his own world and place in it by a side of his father. He taught him, grow him, fed him, and took care of him as his own blood. It was his son he always hoped for, but only the history that he knew significantly changed his mindset and he wanted nothing in history to repeat itself. So he made his son go through the stuff in a mild manner. Influenced by the knowledge of many more methods that could have some differences, was at least what he thought was a good idea that could lead to some interesting developments. And it was the right path but at the same time an unfortunate one.

Allan was never one to be stuck on one thing. Always helping and working with his father, he accumulated experience as an intermediate blacksmith with no issue as he grew up.

Right now, he couldn't help but not be upset about the way his father taught him. Not like the stuff of wonders right below his feet was not interesting to himself. No. It was quite the opposite for him, in a way, but he had to accept it.

Resting his hands on the table for a minute, he wanted to start the simple methods of armor making from this book. One which depicted just a few plates that were ground and curved around the wrist support guard.

But suddenly, he was shaken up by unnatural wild sounds from outside. It shook the whole room through the tremblings.

BOOM!

Hurrying outside, the rain considerably calmed down. He did not see anything abnormal. Just some dusty clouds on the horizon. People on the street were confused. Not knowing what was happening.

Allan did not know what was going on. Eerie dark clouds were formed in the sky. Wind still howling around. He decided to get a better view. Getting back, entering the backyard, and climbed to a hill. Their house was on a far side. Facing a street. But, in the back were small plains and hills. Across them in a kilometer was located a mountain range which was spanning hundreds of kilometers.

Climbing up, Allan looked at the layout of a city from a few dozens of meters above. He has seen gray fog in a location of the main gates. They were very close to the location of his father. Government buildings shouldn’t have been built so close to city walls, to begin with. It was a clear vision of a poor design.

Deep penetrating sounds flew through the air. Resembling horns or trumpets, it could be heard from all over the city.

At this moment. Allan knew the truth.

North attacked.

Sounds of horns, depiction of the craziness of the very beginning of northern invasions. Allan was deeply scared. He did not know what to do. In a normal situation. There should be no invasions. Not in this city. There was so much land between the north and this place. It would be impossible to conceal. Unless the sheer power of invaders vastly outstripped the opponent nation. They would invade at a speed where sharing information was useless.

“I don’t get this. This shouldn’t happen. Thomas said that it would be impossible to hear war in this place anytime soon, if any.” Allan, with a twisted expression, thought.

They do not prepare the military for such situations either. Citizens would suffer and cities would be plundered. It was the hardest thing to witness. His home was about to be destroyed and he couldn’t do a thing.

“What should I do in this situation? Father is far away. Run?” He thought, considering a way to do the best choice.

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“I don't know. What… to do?” Allan thought helplessly. He didn’t know anyone he could reach from other cities. Fleeing was the best option.

“It will take a while before they reach this place. This is the furthest from the main gate. I will quickly make a bag of the most important supplies. Food, water, and money should be taken first. Survival was most important.” Allan considers his plan. Not thinking much about the shop which would be lost.

It was one lesson his father taught him. Tasks for survival. But, no matter what, actually experiencing these events was far different.

He was not ready for what was about to happen.

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